


The Case of the Golden Head

by Merlin Missy (mtgat)



Category: Sky High (2005)
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, Yuletide 2016, framed for a crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8648035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtgat/pseuds/Merlin%20Missy
Summary: Layla is framed for a crime she didn't commit, and Warren has to help her clear her name.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fenellaevangela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenellaevangela/gifts).



**Headline! Rayne Forrest Wanted For Questioning In Murder Case! Authorities Request Aid From Superhero Community! Grieving Mother Calls For Forrest To Turn Herself In!**

Warren resisted the urge to flame the newspaper, shouldered his coat against the chill, and kept walking. Superheroes weren't welcome now, especially superheroes with bad reputations. Warren could walk down the street as up and coming chef Warren Peace with no one the wiser that was merely the secret identity of vigilante antihero The Blaze.

("You know your super name sounds like a gay porn star, right?" "Shut the fuck up, Stronghold." Layla had laughed at both of them and asked when Will would bring his new boyfriend to the restaurant for dinner to meet his friends.)

Layla was in trouble. Every newspaper and TV station streamed out salacious tidbits as they unfolded: Rayne Forrest showed up at the headquarters of a multinational corporation who made their fortune destroying the Amazon tree by tree, denounced the CEO, then stole the 24-karat gold bust of his smirking face, killing a security guard on her way out the door. Everything had been caught on video, both the building's internal CCTV and the shaky iPhone footage from multiple witnesses.

Will, voice shaking in anger, had called Warren when he couldn't get hold of Layla, insisting the video must have been edited. Maybe Gwen broke out of prison and was using her techno powers to frame her. But Gwen Grayson was still locked up (Warren had already checked) and anyway the first cameraphone videos had hit YouTube within five minutes of the crime. The footage wasn't altered.

Warren kicked the ground once as he walked, booting a defenseless orange leaf because he didn't dare lash out the way he wanted to.

He pulled out his phone and sent another text, not expecting this one to be answered any more than the other six had been. "Where are you?" lacked a certain level of urgency but he didn't want to get detailed in case she'd lost her phone. No one knew Rayne Forrest's secret identity was environmentalist, social activist, and general do-gooder Layla Williams. Not yet.

His footsteps found him outside Layla's apartment building. He shouldn't be taking this long of a break from work to check on her. It wasn't as if she'd been here the other three times he'd been by in the last two days. He pressed the button anyway.

His pocket beeped.

Warren pulled out his phone again. A tiny icon of Layla, a selfie she'd taken when she'd grabbed his phone one night, grinned next to a text. "Is that you?"

"Y."

The door buzzed open. With a wave of relief, Warren ducked inside, latching the outside door behind himself. He ran up the first flight of stairs, then slowed to a more controlled walk up the second. He rapped on her door. "It's me."

He heard the chain and the slide lock. The door cracked open. "Come in."

He gave her a second to step back from the door before pushing inside. Layla shoved the door shut as soon as he was clear.

He'd half expected her to be scared, maybe even crying. God knew why. Layla's face was a picture of outrage and fury.

"Don't you dare tell me you believe them."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Warren wasn't a hugger. This time, he made an exception, giving her a big, loose embrace with an awkward backpat. "Will thinks it's Gwen."

"She's in prison," Layla said, accepting the hug before pulling away and wiping her face with the back of her hand. Okay, she had been crying and didn't want to admit it. Made sense. "I checked."

"So did we. Will's working on a public statement."

"I know. He keeps texting me."

"You could answer your phone." Warren shrugged off his coat and sat on one of the large poufs Layla used for furniture instead of a couch. One of her houseplants extended fronds towards him in a friendly way until he glared at it. The plant withdrew and sulked. Layla sat in her favorite pouf beside it and patted the stem.

"I've been focusing on work. I can't let my secret identity down while I'm trying to clear my name."

"Are you trying?"

"Yes!" She shrugged. "Okay, I will as soon as I can figure out how. I thought I should lay low for a while." She put the last part in air quotes and Warren rolled his eyes.

"Don't try to sound tough. It doesn't work for you."

She lay back in her pouf, head hanging almost upside-down. "What am I supposed to do? What do you do when they try to pin things on you?"

"I ignore them. Vigilante. I can get away with bad press."

She leaned forward again, resting her face in her hands. "I should be a vigilante. Everyone says I spend too much time around you and I'll go evil. Vigilante is halfway evil." She glanced over. "No offense."

"Offense taken."

"Sorry." And she was. When Layla apologized, she always meant it. She was always nice, always positive, always good. She'd make a terrible vigilante, just like Will.

Sometimes Warren asked himself what he was doing hanging out with Pollyannas like those two. Then he remembered they were his best friends. 

He leaned forward. Will would place a comforting hand on her shoulder. Warren rested his chin on his hands. "Who has a grudge against you?"

"Against Rayne Forrest?" She ticked off on her fingers. "Those bank robbers I stopped two weeks ago. Five purse snatchers over the past month. Polluto. The Toxic Sludge. I've gone over my enemies list."

"Sludge is in jail again. The last time I saw Polluto, he was running scared from you and Will. Did you ever catch him?"

"No. And we never learned his secret identity. But we saved that river."

Warren privately mused he'd have let the river get a little polluted in exchange for catching the bad guy, but there was a reason he didn't have a key to the city like the one in Layla's secret back room, or the one in Will's basement.

"Let's call him suspect number one. Is there anyone who hates Layla Williams?"

"Sure. Senator Porkbarrel hates my guts. Ronnie Crud doesn't like me much, either."

"Especially not after you stole his golden head."

She glared at him. Warren shot her a grin.

"A lot of people don't like my work, in or out of costume. Polluto might have a sidekick. The Senator could have hired someone. There's no way to know." She sank into her seat deeper. "And whoever it was murdered that poor guard. I have to find out who did this and bring the killer to justice." The anger was back.

Warren would tell her she was cute when she was angry, but he valued his life. "What's your alibi?"

"I don't need an alibi. I didn't do it."

"I know, but if you can tell the cops you were busy helping orphans and nuns at the time, preferably on video, it would help."

"I was meditating."

"Alone?"

"Yes. Earth Mama encourages all employees to take meditation breaks at least twice a day to refocus our energies. I was alone reconnecting with my powers."

"Right. The whole time?"

"About half an hour, which overlaps with the time of the robbery. I already checked. I'd have to give up my secret identity to prove my innocence if it didn't." She made a face.

"Then we have to do this the hard way."

"We? I didn't ask for your help, Warren."

"No, but you need it and you're welcome. You can thank me by not getting mushy."

Layla cracked a huge smile. "Thanks."

* * *

They returned to the restaurant together. Chef Warren's old school friend Layla was a common sight, and passed through with a smile and a friendly wave to the staff. Warren checked on the disasters that had turned up in his absence. Layla put herself to work helping Luis with the dishes. Carol the general manager caught him up as fast as she could, throwing glances at Layla. She and the rest of the staff were sure he and Layla were a thing, except the ones who thought he and Will were a thing.

Warren ignored them.

He nodded along, gauging the level of activity around him. He'd already looked over tonight's reservations list. "Carol, I'm going to need a few days off. My dad was just denied parole again, and he's really down. I've promised to drive up to visit. Layla's letting me use her car."

Carol's face went soft. Warren had adjusted his story. His dad hadn't been trying to take over the world. He'd been busted as the driver in a bank robbery where a cop got shot, and the rest of the robbers turned State's Evidence on Dad to get their own plea bargains. Taking over the world was much cooler, though Warren knew better than to say so out loud around any of his superhero friends. Getting screwed by the system hit Carol and the rest around here right in the heartstrings.

"All right. Try to be back for the Friday night rush. Tell your dad we were all pulling for him."

"Thanks, Carol." He tilted his head. "Layla?"

"Yeah." She finished her conversation with Luis with a quick smile and a promise of her own to come back soon. As they exited the restaurant, she said, "Luis's Tia Ana is doing much better." Layla knew everyone's family, everyone's story. She was best friends with the dishwasher, the Hostess, all the busboys, Carol, Ashla the other chef, and everyone else. Even him.

"I'm sure."

"Why did you tell them you were going to see your dad? You never see your dad."

"Because after we stop in at the crime scene, I'm going to visit my dad."

* * *

The crime scene was the lobby of Crud Industries. The building had been re-opened to the public since this morning, after the police had concluded their own investigation of the area. The place where the guard had been killed was still taped off out of respect. Several people had left flowers just outside the yellow tape. Layla put her hand in front of her mouth as she glanced over the messages they'd placed.

"Don't read those," Warren told her, but he couldn't stop her without attracting attention. To the world, they were just two ordinary citizens walking through the lobby, gawping at the place where a man died. If she was tearing up at the vicious comments about herself, she could pass it off as tears for the dead guard, and knowing Layla, most of them were.

Warren checked out the plinth with the missing golden bust. He'd seen it before. Everyone had. It was the symbol of Crud Industries: the jackass's smirk gleamed at the end of every commercial and stamped on every Crud product and property.

Disturbing information had been churning up about Crud's less savory activities. Warren wasn't involved with the investigation, but even he'd seen the headlines, and noticed mustaches drawn on Crud faces. Today Crud owned the news cycle, demanding Rayne Forrest be brought to justice.

Even now, one of his television spots played on the TV in the corner of the lobby, and people were watching, nodding their heads.

"He's pretty popular now," Warren said, dragging Layla away from the memorial. "Have you noticed?"

"I've noticed. He's got the sympathy of everyone in the city. He could announce he's about to tear down a preschool and drill for oil, and people would applaud." Layla's eyes narrowed even as she said it. "You're thinking this worked out really well for him."

"Yeah."

Layla checked out the angle of the security cameras, snapping selfies with them in view, using his phone. She'd left hers at home in case her GPS was tracked by someone who knew her secret identity. Warren took photos of the windows Rayne Forrest had supposedly broken on her way in and out. There wasn't much else to take from the site. The blood had been cleaned up. Life was moving on. And Ronnie Crud was riding a surging tide of popularity.

"Let's go."

* * *

As they neared Layla's apartment building, Warren got a bad feeling. He grabbed her arm, pulling her into an alley.

"Warren, what the hell?"

"Sh."

He looked around the corner. There. They hadn't seen either of them. He pulled back in. "I thought I recognized them. That's Electro and Pilot Light." He'd know that pair anywhere, in or out of costume.

"Here?" She went to look but he held her still. "What do they want?"

"Let me think. Rayne Forrest is wanted for murder, and two of the superhero community's best superlaw enforcers are waiting by your front door."

"It's been two days."

"You're a good guy. Maybe they thought you'd turn yourself in."

Layla gulped. She'd been scared, but finally, he saw she understood how bad her situation was. "I should let them take me in. They're superheroes. They'll want to prove my innocence."

"They will make an example of you. People are scared of superheroes right now. They'll be happy to throw you under the speeding train to show we're not all like that." He knew how these people operated. "They'll put you in Supermax and leave you there just to keep the peace."

His pocket beeped. Warren checked. Will was asking if he'd seen Layla, that the cops had come around his place. He held the phone out for Layla to read. They shared a look. Will was one of the good guys, the really good guys, and they couldn't let him lie for her. He texted back, "No. She probably left town by now." He put his phone away.

There were footsteps coming closer. Warren made a very quick decision, grabbing Layla and pressing her against the slimy alley wall with her bright hair facing away from the street. Hoping she understood, and wouldn't castrate him later for this, he dove in for a kiss.

The feet moved past, slowing down for a moment. Warren hid his shudder, knowing they were being watched.

He focused on making this look good. He held her shoulders, stretching his back as wide as he could to block the view, and tilted his head a little wildly as he pressed his mouth tightly against hers. Layla gasped in surprise, her lips open under his and her throat making a startled noise. He knew this wasn't her first kiss. She and Will had been pretty serious before he'd finally figured things out two years ago. She and Warren had never even considered it, aside from that fake dating back in school. Layla had gotten over Will by focusing on her work, and Warren had lazed his way from not serious relationship to not serious relationship, and was he actually thinking about relationships now?

"They've gone," Layla said into his mouth.

"Right," Warren said, blinking and stepping back, working on the weird hitch in his own breath. "If you're going to punch me, do it now and get it over with."

"I'm not going to punch you. Just warn me next time, all right?"

He went to make a hard joke about there definitely not being a next time when he saw her unamused expression. "Fine." He waited another few heartbeats before checking the street again. "They're gone but I'm sure they've put in a camera or something to watch your place. You can't go home right now."

He nodded towards the other end of the alley. They made their way to the next street over, careful to check for more surveillance. Ordinary citizens Layla Williams and Warren Peace had nothing to fear from the normal police, but their secret identities were known by the other supers. "They've been to Will's, and they'll probably check out my place, too. Come on."

Layla kept close by his side as they hurried down some back streets they'd both patrolled in the past, finally catching a bus to midtown and fetching up by the Paper Lantern where they all used to hang out. Mr. Zhang used to be a superhero in his younger days, and he liked Warren for reasons that Warren still didn't understand. Warren didn't even like himself some days. He didn't mind that Warren had fixed up the basement of the restaurant as his base, as long as he came around for holiday meals and helped in the back sometimes when he wasn't working his day job or his night job.

Layla had been here enough times that she had her own handprint for the secret entrance. He didn't let her this time in case the supercops were watching his steps, too.

"The cot's pretty comfortable. I stay here a lot," he said, maybe unnecessarily as he saw the look she gave him. Fine. He slept here almost as often as he slept back at his crummy apartment. His base had wifi from the restaurant upstairs and he hadn't broken the new password for the neighbors' network at home since they changed it on him again.

Layla sat at his computer. "Usual password?"

He nodded. She logged in and started uploading the photos they'd taken at the crime scene. "Anyway," Warren said, "Mr. Zhang will send down anything you want to eat. The bathroom's gross because the maid hasn't been in. Ever."

She sighed. "You need a keeper."

"No, I need a mop." He watched her shudder. "Just kidding. It's not that bad. I'll be back tomorrow. I have to take the night bus to see Dad."

"You're sure about this?"

He wasn't. "Yeah. It'll be fine."

* * *

The night bus operated on a signal only known to a few. Warren couldn't fly. A lot of superheroes couldn't fly. The bus could, and it was paid for by the supertax. Warren settled into his seat and didn't make eye contact with the other passengers after he gave his destination to the driver.

Supermax floated in the air using the same technology as Sky High. Every possible joke had been made about this, which didn't stop new freshmen from reinventing them all as soon as they found out about the supervillain prison which hung in the air high over the ocean. There had never been a successful escape, but that never stopped the inmates from trying. The Warden, an old superhero who once went by the codename Justice Lee, felt the escape attempts were part and parcel of the therapy program offered at Supermax. Escape attempts gave them exercise and a goal to work towards. Of course, a few inmates died in the attempts over the years, but what could you do?

Warren's father had never tried to escape, not as far as Warren knew. He'd made his play to take over the world, and now he served his time. Warren had visited him when Mom made him, and when he'd been old enough not to go, he'd stopped.

Nerves ate at him as he stood at the entry, waiting to be searched before he was allowed inside. This place had the faintest reek of urine, even flushed by the constant sea air. Not much had changed since he was a kid. He wasn't sure if that was reassuring or just sad. He nodded at the supercop, recognizing the face from school. "Peace," said the cop with a quick smile. "Have a seat. Baron Battle will be out shortly."

A few minutes later, Dad was brought into the far end of the room and allowed to sit on the other side of the glass.

"Dad."

Dad cracked a weak smile. "Good to see you, Warren. It's been a long time."

"I know. I've been working."

Dad's fingers moved, tapping out a strange pattern. He was playing his clarinet, imaginary or not, even now. He always had. When Warren had been little, Dad had used his clarinet to play lullabies to put him to sleep, and he'd had no idea Dad was then going out to put whole cities to sleep, holding them hostage. Mom hadn't known, either, not then. Warren remembered her face when she'd discovered Dad's secret. He remembered how much she'd cried after she'd snapped his clarinet over her knee. Sometimes Warren woke up at night still hearing that crack in his dreams.

"How've you been?" His face was genial. Dad had been a lot older than Mom when they'd met, almost forty to her twenty-five. In a different life, he'd be someone's grandpa now, not a maniacal supervillain wondering if he'd outlive his sentence.

"Fine."

"And your mother?" He frowned. "And _him_?"

Warren cleared his throat. "They're fine. Mom's good. Paul is okay. He treats her good." His stepfather had always treated Warren decently. They'd had the usual fights when Warren had been sixteen, but no worse than any other kids did with their parents. "He still tries to take me fishing so we can bond."

"Old fishy Paul," Dad said, laughing.

"Yeah."

"You know, I've heard about you. Up here. They say you're spending time with the Stronghold kid. That's good. Lull him into thinking you're one of the good guys, then stab him in the neck!" Dad laughed harder.

Warren made a face. "I'm not going to stab Will, Dad. I'm not going to stab anybody."

"Of course. Of course." Dad winked broadly. "I never said anything."

Warren wanted to say, Dad, things aren't the way they were. There's still heroes and villains, but I don't have to walk in your boots to keep from being a goody two shoes. I've heard about you down there, too. I know you and Captain Yesterday have a thing now that you're cell-mates. I'm happy you're getting over Mom, and I wish you'd let go of the rest of the past, too.

He didn't say any of that. "I need to know something."

Dad sat back. "Didn't figure this was a social call. Well, if you must know, I wasn't sure about that minister, either. No proper minister wears a white sparkly jumpsuit, but your mother wouldn't listen."

"Right. No. Dad, there's been a murder. Someone went after Ronnie Crud, stole his golden head, and killed a security guard. Have you heard anything up here? Maybe someone planning it?"

"We watch the news. I heard Rayne Forrest did it."

"She didn't."

"Looks like her on the video."

"I know. I know she didn't do it. I'm trying to find out who did."

"Who cares? Crud lost his head."

"A man died, and I want to clear my friend's name of the murder." At the word "friend," Dad's eyebrows shot up.

"Another friend? You'll have to stab them both at the same time. Otherwise the other one will get revenge."

"I'm not ... Look, Dad. If you haven't heard anything, fine. If you have, I need to know." He leaned forward. "Royal Pain is here. She has a big grudge against Rayne Forrest. We think she might be behind it."

"She's in solitary again for trying to escape. They check on her every couple of hours. She might be behind it if she's telepathic."

Warren shook his head. "She's not. And you haven't heard about anyone else? No technopaths?"

"The only one who's gotten parole recently is Face Off."

"I don't know him."

"Her. She's a master of disguise. Reformed now. Of course, we all say we're reformed."

That was a solid clue. "Do you know her secret identity?"

"No, but the guards will."

"Thanks, Dad. Look, I'll come and visit more often. I'll make the time."

"That'd be good. Tell your mother to come see me now and then. She can even bring along old fishy Paul."

* * *

Warren let himself into his secret base. "You'll never guess who just got out of Supermax."

"Leslie Crud, Ronnie's sister. Better known as master of disguise Face Off." Layla turned around from the computer screen and smiled at him.

Warren frowned. "Sometimes I don't know why I bother."

"Cory Smith texted me."

"Who?"

"He works as a guard at Supermax. He says he saw you there, and he remembered you and I are friends."

"Right." He couldn't remember Smith's name when he'd asked about Face Off's secret identity. But Layla was friends with everyone.

"So we know who did it, and how, but we don't know her motive. I didn't put her behind bars and neither did my mom."

Warren came up to the page she was viewing. While he'd been visiting Dad, Crud had announced he would be putting up a new building right where Earth Mama had been trying to establish a nature preserve. He challenged Rayne Forrest again to turn herself in for the guard's murder.

"Would this jerkoff have done it for the publicity?"

"I don't want to say yes. I can't imagine even Ronnie Crud being that vile." She touched the name of the building site, then she used her thumb to cover the hair on the photo of Crud. "But I know someone who would do it for the chance to destroy a nature preserve."

* * *

"You lied to me," Will said, glaring at Warren.

"Antihero. I'm allowed."

"You're my best friend."

Layla coughed.

"And you're my other best friend. You wouldn't return my calls!" He was mad, but he'd get over it quickly. He always did.

Layla said, "We didn't want to get you involved until we knew what we were up against. Now we know who, how, and why, and we need your help to stop him."

Instantly, Will's face went from angered to determined. "Just tell me the plan."

* * *

The press conference was scheduled for ten in the morning, just in time to hit the noon news cycle, and maybe eat some of the evening news time. Warren didn't care about news cycles, but he remembered enough from their required classes in public relations back in school. Timing was everything. If you could save the world on any other day than a Friday afternoon, you'd get good press.

Crud stepped up to the podium with his trademark smirk. "I want to extend my thanks to all of you who have recognized John Davis as the hero he was, struck down in the prime of his life by a heinous criminal." He extended his hand. "Mrs. Davis, John's mother, is here with me today. Mrs. Davis, I want you to be the first to know, there will be a solid gold plaque dedicated to your son in the lobby of my new Crud Tower, which will begin construction at this very spot."

"Not if I have anything to say about it!"

A green-clad superhero flew to the platform, and with a smirk of her own, she backhanded Mrs. Davis before diving at Crud.

She was stopped a second later by a red and blue clad pillar. Powerman gave his own trademark smile as she jumped back, startled.

"Powerman!"

"You recognize me. Good. Because I don't know who you are. You look just like Rayne Forrest, which is impossible." He pointed. "Rayne Forrest is over there. And she can't fly, unlike you."

Cameras flashed as Rayne Forrest helped Mrs. Davis to her feet, shielding her from the imposter with her body. "I'm so sorry for your loss, ma'am. But I swear to you, I'll bring his killer to justice."

The poor woman looked between them. "I don't understand!" Rayne Forrest led her to the security guards at the edge of the stage, who hadn't even bothered drawing their guns. They must have been tipped off not to shoot.

Ronnie Crud was edging away on the other side of the stage, until a wall of fire stopped him. "I don't think so," said The Blaze.

The fake Rayne Forrest threw a punch at Powerman, who ducked, then hesitated. Warren rolled his eyes. "She only looks like her!" he shouted at Will.

"I've got this," said Rayne Forrest, spinning Face Off around and knocking her out with one punch. As the villain lay there, her shape twisted into the face of Leslie Crud, parolee from Supermax. The cameras caught it all.

Crud said, "Who is that woman?" He looked up. "Powerman, Rayne Forrest, thank you for saving me from...."

"Your sister?" Rayne Forrest said. "Or didn't you want the world to know you have a sister, Polluto?" She strode forward, yanking off his toupee, revealing the all-too-familiar bald pate of the master criminal.

Really, Warren thought later, it had been a terrible disguise. They should have figured it out years ago.

* * *

Debriefings with the normal police were never fun. There were too many protocols about secret identities and national security, and Warren hated all of it, so he managed to disappear just as the sirens started. Will and Layla could deal with the good press and the dull paperwork. He owed Mr. Zhang a shift as a thank you, and he had to get back to work at his own restaurant. The old "dad missed parole again" excuse was going to wear thin.

Hours later, and too edgy to sleep, he patrolled the streets closest to his crappy apartment. One burglar stopped mid-burgle, one runaway kid sent home with a talk he'd borrowed from Will for just this kind of situation, and a mugging prevented before the creep could even get out his knife.

Not bad. If he kept this up, he'd have to hang up the "anti" part of the whole antihero gig, though, and at his day job's pay rate, he couldn't afford the dry cleaning for a nicer costume.

He felt the pistol barrel touch his head as the safety snapped off. "The Blaze. I've always wanted to scrub a superhero."

Warren knew he could fry the guy, but shooting backwards was risky. Not many people were out at this time of night, but there were a lot of firetrap apartment buildings around. He could just as easily send one up in flames. A true antihero wouldn't care.

There was a soft sound, slithery yet thick. Warren was familiar with the noise made by a giant oak springing to full growth from a dropped acorn, but his would-be attacker wasn't, and dropped his gun with a scream as the tree boosted him thirty feet into the air. The gun didn't discharge as it fell, and Warren torched it to make sure it never fired again. Then he turned around.

"Were you following me?"

"I was on my way over to your place. You saved my life. I just returned the favor."

"This jerk?" Warren pointed up the tree. "I had him. I could have turned him into a pile of charcoal without your help."

Layla turned. "You don't have to say thank you." She started walking down the street in the direction of Warren's crappy apartment.

"Help!" cried the gunman. Warren pulled out the cell he used for this sort of thing, called 911, and told them he'd left a shooter in a tree. He gave them the address, repeating, "In a tree. You can't miss him. Gun on the ground. I melted it." He hung up.

He caught up to Layla, ignoring the guy's repeated calls for help. The police usually came pretty fast when The Blaze called. "Hey."

"Okay, maybe you didn't save my life," she said. "But you saved my reputation. That's important. I try to do a lot of good work, and I can keep doing that because you helped me. You're pretty good at being a hero."

"Antihero."

"Whatever. Did you have dinner yet?"

"I scrounged at work. I could order a pizza if you're hungry." It wasn't the first time she'd dropped by for take out, or to chat. There was just something right about having Layla around. They reached his door and he fidgeted with the lock until it finally worked. The yellow light in the kitchen made everything look even smaller and darker than usual. He shrugged off his coat, and hung Layla's on the same hook.

As he shut the door, and saw her standing patiently with a quiet smile on her face, somehow the room grew a little brighter. It always did when she was there. Crappy apartment, crappy secret base, crappy life, sure, but everything was better when Layla was around.

"Warren, I...." She couldn't finish her sentence. She watched his eyes.

He thought about a lot of things at once. Mom and Dad had been a hero and a villain in love, and that had ended really badly. But Warren wasn't a villain, and maybe that was enough.

"You said I should warn you," he said, and he placed his hand against her arm. "Before the next time."

She looked confused for a moment, then her face lit up. "Thanks for the warning."

He went to kiss her, but Layla was already there kissing him first, her arms wrapping around his neck like tendrils growing against the warm place they'd always belonged. The yellow light above them bedazzled the room, blinding them with unexpected brilliance like another sun.

Warren reached out and flicked the switch off.


End file.
